


Confession

by DrStruggle



Category: Persona 5
Genre: First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrStruggle/pseuds/DrStruggle
Summary: Akechi didn't think things through for once.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 70





	Confession

The deep blue night sky and its shining stars hanging down through its curtain served as the only lighting in the empty, dark streets. Akira was closing up shop, Sojiro hurriedly excusing himself in favor of attending to whatever trouble was to find him at home. The ding of a bell sounded throughout the expanse almost too suddenly. A figure blurred to the seat farthest right of the bar, summoning Akira’s attention. After finishing his monotonous task of wiping the countertop free of nonexistent dust he looked over to the final straggler of the night.

He expected to see someone, but that someone wasn’t Akechi Goro. 

Upon the realization his throat tightened and his cheeks burned. He decided to stutter out a welcome, at least, since that was the least thing he could do in the presence of something greater than which cannot be conceived--in his mind, at least. 

“Um, good evening. What can I--?” Akira’s sentence stopped prematurely and he inwardly cursed at himself. He decided not to ruin his image further and looked up at Akechi unknowingly coyly, wringing his towel in a fit of anxiousness to rid himself of his nerves. Every second felt sluggish around this man. There was no way he could handle Akechi alone. Every other time Akechi had visited Leblanc he had some form of moral support from Sojiro’s looming presence. This time, though, he was finished before he even started.

A beautiful tune. That was Akechi’s laugh. Hell, that was Akechi’s voice. Even if it was fake pleasantries. He hid his smile behind a smooth, gloved hand. Akira imagined holding that hand. Grasping it, clinging to it so he’d never let go. A selfish thought, really.

“Cat got your tongue? I’m merely here to pay you a visit, so you can put that cup down.” Akira froze, yet again, ceasing his trained reaction. He nodded, clearing his throat awkwardly and adjusting his glasses. In order to calm himself he thought of the heaps of homework and laundry he should have been doing. Or the video games he could have been playing. Anything else but Akechi and Akechi’s smooth, sticky caramel voice. It was so sickeningly sweet it threatened to leave him parched. Time was passing by so slow, so torturously. Why couldn’t Akechi just come out with it? He seemed perfectly at peace, face absent of any stress or fatigue. As per usual. “Sorry. What did you need, again?” Akira forced a smirk on his face, finally making solid eye contact with the warden of his prison.

Akechi’s eyes flickered to the side once or twice. What the fuck is his deal? Akira’s thoughts sincerely held every string of emotion down to the deep tides of his heart. Absolute poetry ran through his mind at all times, call him Oscar Wilde. He tapped over to where Akechi was sitting across from his seat at the bar and gave him his full, completely undivided attention. Akechi was always so cunning, so serious--there was no reason why he had to act like this around Akira of all people. Maybe awful news is to come and he’s feigning grief. Maybe his circuits acted up and he needs to be cut open and fixed. Or maybe Akira’s just projecting. Or maybe--

To say Akechi grabbed Akira would be an understatement. He yanked him forward by the collar of his school uniform, a bout of vigor Akira had yet to see for himself. He knew it was there all along, but he hadn’t expected to see it for the first time in...whatever way this was. Akechi’s lips clumsily met Akira’s in a frenzy of his own, warmth meeting warmth as Akechi’s fist clenched the fabric harder. With a small, startled yet incredibly pleased noise, Akira returned the action with complete foolishness--one hand held Akechi’s, the one close to his neck--and the other pulled him closer by the back of his head. It was like the meeting of their lips was their only means of oxygen.

When the need for breath finally regained its strength, though, they split apart with panting breaths and heated faces. Akechi’s hand was now smoothing Akira’s collar and both of Akira’s hands had found themselves on Akechi’s shoulders. That knocked the wind out of him. No time to think through his reactions and no time to think of what to do next--Akechi was already carrying out that decision for him. The same hand that was allowing itself to smooth over Akira’s clothing was now reaching upward to pull at his hair, but not enough to hurt. Akira looked up in response.

Akechi bit his lip, then went in for it.

“I love you.”


End file.
